Here Tomorrow
by DragonWinglet
Summary: '"You're going to be here tomorrow, right?" The question was serious, and Dick thought about it seriously before answering.' The whole team took Wally's death hard, but very few as hard as their old bird, Nightwing. Conner consoles him, and makes sure that he'll be there tomorrow. Angsty, sad. Cursing. It's not too great.


**(A/N): me no own. Enjoy! Cursing, kinda dark themes.**

The death of Wally had hit everyone hard, but none so hard as the remaining founding members of the Team. Aqualad showed no outward sadness, but those who knew him could see from the subtle change in his posture and the dark circles under his eyes.

But it was Nightwing that most people were worried about. The man had taken a leave from the team after his best friend died, and almost completely disappeared from the radar. The only news any of the people got of him were the occasional stories of the masked vigilante's heroism in Bludhaven.

All of the original members of the Team had tried his apartment, only to be turned away. Tim and Barbara both didn't say anything, but it seemed that they'd been having about the same amount of luck getting in. They were worried - didn't know what was happening to their favorite bird, but also unwilling to break the tentative privacy that his apartment afforded.

Conner Kent, however, was done with the uncertain waiting and worrying. That was why he found himself standing outside the door of Richard Grayson's apartment gazing uncertainly around himself. Nightwing, the person trained by the bat, was far too intelligent (read: paranoid) to leave a key lying around hidden under something as trivial as a welcome mat (which was actually a mat that said 'Go Away' on it, probably purchased by Dick as a joke but far too representative of what he was going to be told soon enough) and he knew the door would be locked. He tried the knob anyway, but it just rattled. He wasn't surprised that it was locked. Pausing for a moment with a hand in his pocket, he listened closely through the door, attempting to pinpoint where his friend was. He heard the shower running, and removed the key that he'd gotten from Tim. The newest Robin had nabbed it from the Batcave and easily handed it to Conner - he was as worried as the rest of the group, but he didn't want to cross a line. The kryptonian had nothing to fear from the young adult's whingdings, however, and therefore was one of the first choices to check on the young adult.

He allowed himself to knock, more out of courtesy than any attempt to be polite. He heard Dick sigh slightly and the shower turn off. However, Dick made no move to leave the room or even open the door. Sighing, Conner unlocked the door and stepped into the room, immediately wrinkling his nose. While most of the apartment was clean, there were hints - the old food lying around, the computer equipment discarded upon the couch. Dick was in a bad place, and only his closest friends would be able to tell.

Dick didn't look at the boy of steel when he stepped from the bathroom. He wore a pair of sweatpants low on his hips and didn't acknowledge the other male in the room.

Conner had learned a few things, watching Batman deal with his first protege, waiting for the ebony haired boy to speak. He always spoke first, and so Conner waited with a semblance of patience, ignoring his heart, the heart that was beating hard within his chest. Dick still didn't acknowledge him, not even looking up at him, for long enough that Conner was forced to wonder whether or not he'd actually noticed him or if the boy was too far gone to realize a hulking figure in the same room as himself.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" The words were spoken softly, calmly, but Conner heard the strain behind them.

"We're worried about you." Conner's voice was equally calm, not holding the hidden edge, instead remaining monotone in an attempt not to provoke the smaller.

"Good for you. That's my problem how?" His voice held an edge of contempt, and Conner had to fight to keep a wince off of his face.

"You don't mean that and you know it, Dick." Conner fought to keep his voice calm, but the worry was there, despite his attempts to keep his voice level. Dick certainly picked up on it, but didn't react to that aspect. His movement was sudden and the raise in his voice made Conner jump involuntarily and move back quickly. The water bottle he had pulled from the refrigerator was slammed onto the counter as Dick pushed Conner (a gesture that would have been futile in any other situation, but the shock was enough to make him pliant) away from himself.

"Don't I? I don't fucking care, Con! I left because I don't want to give a shit! I- I…" His outburst stopped as suddenly as it started, and his body slumped back with the small of his back leaning against the countertop behind him, a posture as defeated as Conner had ever seen him exhibit.

"Saying you don't want to doesn't mean you don't." Dick glanced at him for a moment, then straightened up, picked up the water bottle and walked from the room. Conner followed. Dick didn't speak again, however, and Conner decided to break Batman's most commonly used tactic.

"You loved him."

"Fuck yeah, I loved him, it was fucking obvious." The response was said so flippantly, so honest, that Conner stood silently for a moment before continuing. Dick hadn't even turned around to look at him, instead coming to a stop facing a bare wall of his apartment.

"He meant a lot to you and you don't want to continue doing this without him." Conner didn't ask, the statement was matter-of-fact, said with ease. Dick didn't reply, but his shoulders began to shake in a very suspicious fashion. "He meant a lot to all of us, Dick."

That was either the wrong thing to say, or the right one. Dick seemed to crumble, falling to his knees and crying into them, loud sobs that he didn't attempt to repress.

"Whe-when is it go-going to st-stop?!" His voice was loud and sobs interrupted his speech as Conner fell to his knees next to the boy, an arm going around his shoulders and allowing Dick to lean into his chest.

"I don't know what you mean, Rob." Neither Dick nor Conner noticed his slip up as Conner turned the smaller around, letting him cry into his chest.

"They-they all die. All of-of the-them. Everyone I ca-care ab-ab-about they just-" He couldn't finish his sentence, the tumbling syllables falling together into a jumbled mass of words and was cut off by violent sobs wracking his body.

"Shhh, Dick, it's fine." Now that was the wrong thing to say, and Conner knew it immediately when a hand flew up and slammed into his solar plexus. The blow was hard, given that the smaller was crying so hard that he was having trouble breathing and that he was hitting a half kryptonian that bullets bounced off of.

"No it is not! It will never be fine! He's… he's…" He dissolved into tears again, his face sinking into Conner's shirt once more. Conner sighed and shook his head.

"You know he wouldn't want-"

"Who fucking knows what he wants?! He'll never be here to tell us, because he'd dead. Gone forever!" Dick didn't even bother moving for that outburst, and his voice was slightly muffled by Connor's shirt. Conner sighed heavily.

"You know that's not how you really feel, Dick." He wasn't used to being the voice of reason between Dick and himself, and it was unsettling. About as unsettling as holding the smaller boy while he sobbed for all he was worth because his best friend had just died. Dick didn't speak again for a good while.

"Everyone I love, all the people I care about die. Either they die or they distance themselves from me and it's almost the same thing." Conner didn't know what to say to that proclamation, but the smaller boy seemed as calm as he'd been since the clone had gotten there. He didn't seem to expect an answer because he didn't stir for a moment, then he suddenly sat up.

"Shit, Con, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lost it like that. I'm just…" He trailed off, then sighed frustratedly, gesturing animatedly with his hands. His eyes were red, face puffy, but the deep set lines of sadness had faded slightly. Conner shrugged, rolling his stiff shoulders out.

"'S what friends are for, right?" He shrugged and shook his head. "You gonna be okay?" Dick copied the shrug as he stood stiffly, putting a hand to his forehead.

"I don't know. Probably not. Ask me tomorrow." Conner grinned slightly at the statement, arching an eyebrow.

"Does that mean that I'm invited back?" he replied easily.

"Don't make me change my mind," the other said, shaking his head. He began shooing Conner out of the apartment, citing the mess as a reason he should go. Before the door could close, he put his floor in the doorframe, looking Dick in the eye.

"You're going to be here tomorrow, right?" The question was serious, and Dick thought about it seriously before answering. He nodded slightly, not speaking, after his eyes wandered the old carpet on the ground for a moment. Then he met Conner's eyes solidly, and nodded firmly, letting his usual smile play about his lips again.

 **What do you think? If you really want to see more, ask really nicely and I may be able to write a sequel or something. Please review, I love reviews more than I love myself.**

 **If you want to see something written, send me a prompt and I'll write it for you ^.^**


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